


Suited For Success

by hey_eryn



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fine Stud Lexa, Sorority girl Clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 08:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13923063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_eryn/pseuds/hey_eryn
Summary: Clarke Griffin doesn't know what she's doing with her life. While trying to make a little bit of cash and buy herself some time to figure herself out, she meets the wealthy and generous CFO, Lexa, on a sugar baby dating website.





	1. Seeking Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> One of my favorite Clexa headcanons is fine stud Lexa, and it deserves more attention. Enjoy!

“Just quit school. Just get in the car, just drive, don’t show up to graduation, don’t get your diploma. You can be a waitress.”

“No.”

“Move to Greece and work in tourism. Throw your phone out. You could be a concierge or whatever, spend your time on beaches telling people where to spend their vacation.”

“That sounds like a dream job for you, Little, not me.” Clarke pushed herself away from her desk, the wheels of her rolling office chair squeaking as they moved. She looked across the room at the dark haired girl sitting cross-legged on the floor. She wore a pair of athletic leggings, bright pink socks, and a black shirt that read ‘I Can Make Your Shamrock’ in shiny silver letters. Clarke knew that ‘KΔ’ was written on the back - she’d passed that shirt down to her sorority little sis, Octavia, when they had gotten matched up in Octavia’s freshman year. 

“Maybe so,” Octavia said. “So just take a gap year.”

Clarke shook her head. “I don’t have the money for that, and there’s no way Mom would put up the cash. She wants me to go straight to medical school.”

“But you don’t want to go straight to medical school,” Octavia said. She gestured to the window. “Look out there, Big. It’s spring. The flowers are blooming. The K-Sig’s are throwing water balloons on the front lawn. You should be out there with a four loko instead of in here, stressing out. It’s not fair! You deserve better.”

“Yes,” Clarke said. “I know.” She put her feet up on her desk, glaring contemplatively at the shelves on her wall. They were covered in sketchbooks, gifts from Octavia, and of course, her biology textbooks. “If I could take a gap year, I would.”

“I can help you get the money.”

“If you’re going to suggest selling fake drugs to Pi Phi’s, I’ve already told you I’m not doing it.”

“No, this is a real thing. Here, give me your computer.”

“My - Octavia, what are you-”

Octavia snatched the MacBook off of Clarke’s desk. “Look,” she said. “I read about this recently for me, not for you, but I think you could do it and you’d be good at it.” She held the computer in one hand, typing in Clarke’s password with the other.

“Good at what?”

Octavia didn’t answer, and Clarke raised her voice slightly. “Good at what?”

“Shh.”

Clarke rolled her eyes.

“Here it is.” Octavia handed the laptop back to Clarke.

“Seeking Arrangement,” Clarke said out loud. “What is this?”

“Sugar babying.” Octavia was grinning. “You’re so hot, Big, listen to me, you’d have a billion daddies begging to pay for your gap year. I’m serious. Please do it.”

“Absolutely not,” Clarke said, but she didn’t close the laptop.

“Come on. Seattle’s to the north of us and Silicon Valley is to the south. All those millionaires wouldn’t even miss the money it would take to give you a year to get through this existential crisis you’re having.”

“You sound like a Marilyn Monroe movie.”

“You’re the one that watches Some Like it Hot at full volume every time you have too many daiquiris.”

“Fair point.”

“So will you do it?”

Clarke sighed heavily. “If I say no, are you going to make a profile for me as soon as I leave the room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Alright then, I’d like to have some agency in this. It can’t be any worse than Tinder, right?”

“Right,” Octavia said emphatically. “Last time I went on a Tinder date, the guy told me he didn’t want to see me again because my quads were bigger than his. And you know I stop lifting for no man.”

“I do,” Clarke said as she clicked ‘Both’ in the interested-in section. “Here we go. I’m set up. Are you happy?”

“Put that picture of you in the black monokini.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“It’s the sexiest picture of you. You look like you’re in Sports Illustrated.”

“Alright, alright.” Clarke added the picture and closed her laptop. “I’m not gonna overthink this. Do you want to go sit on the deck and watch the water balloon fights while I finish my homework? I want to get some sun in while I’m studying.”

“That sounds perfect,” Octavia said. “I bet you’ll have fifteen - no, twenty messages when we get back!”

Clarke shook her head, but said nothing. She’d thought her way out of enough opportunities in her life, and this time, she just wanted to see where Octavia’s zest for adventure took her.


	2. Have You Been to Iceland?

That evening, Clarke waited until Octavia left the house with a few of her friends. She stayed on the deck for a while, reading her biology textbook as the sun went down over Greek Row, bathing the tall, stately houses in a soft orange light. 

She rubbed the corner of one of the pages between her fingers, thinking. Maybe she would just go back to her room and check her laptop. Just in case someone had messaged her in the last few hours. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

She pulled the door open, the familiar smell of a mix of light perfumes and vanilla Scentsy plugins swept over her. She hurried down the stairs to her room, with her and Octavia’s names on the door, and pushed it open. The laptop was sitting on her desk, inviting, and Clarke felt her heartbeat skip just a little. She felt silly getting excited over something so frivolous, but she had to admit nothing had excited her in some time, and it felt good. 

Taking her time, she opened the curtains, settled down in the fluffy white beanbag by the window, and opened her laptop. 

Octavia had been close to right. The black monokini had attracted some attention, and Clarke found 17 messages on her profile. She scrolled through the pictures, mostly of men with short, gray hair and the chiseled, slightly weathered features of someone who had worked out a lot in his younger years, but had traded those habits in for years of late-night conference calls across the world and early mornings in the office. Some of them had dogs with them in their pictures, and Clarke hovered over those slightly longer, admiring the shepherds and labs.

The twelfth message stopped her. It read simply, ‘Have you been to Iceland?’

Clarke felt her head tilt slightly to one side, and she looked at the picture that accompanied the message. She felt a slight blush begin to creep up her neck as she studied it, leaning slightly closer to the screen.

The woman in the photograph was holding a whiskey glass, looking into the camera with a half-smile that was painted a deep shade of red. She had long, curled brown hair that spilled over one shoulder, framing her narrow, defined face. Her white collared shirt was pushed up to the elbows, revealing a full sleeve tattoo on one of her arms. Clarke squinted at it - she couldn’t quite tell what it was of, but she wanted to know. ‘Alexandra,’ the profile read. Clarke bit her lip. 

Her fingers hovered over the keys.

‘I can’t say I have,’ she typed back. She pressed the enter key quickly, before she lost her nerve.

She was about to get up and go check the kitchen to see what kind of leftovers there were when her computer made a bright chirping sound. The woman had responded.

‘I’m rather jealous of you, I wish I could travel there for the first time again. I would love to give you that experience, if you’re interested.’

‘I’m certainly interested,’ Clarke wrote back. 

‘Good. Are you free this weekend?’

“This weekend?” Clarke said out loud. “This weekend,” she said again, more quietly. 

She looked at the calendar on her wall. There were notes about exams for the following week, a social at AKL, and three very dense readings due for Tuesday’s classes.

‘Totally free,’ she wrote. 

‘Do you want to FaceTime me and see that I’m real? I’d like to see that you’re real as well, and then I’m ready to pay for your ticket.’

Clarke glanced at the small mirror on her desk. She was still wearing makeup, and her hair, although slightly tousled from the wind on the deck, looked passable. As much as she would have liked to put off the call, she thought it would be best to go ahead and do it. She touched up her winged eyeliner and then replied, ‘That sounds great. Here’s my number.’

She set up her textbooks on the desk and set her laptop on top of them to get the perfect high-angle camera view, and adjusted her olive-green long sleeved shirt so it showed just the right amount of cleavage. As she studied herself in the FaceTime screen, it began to ring.

She let it ring twice, and then answered.

The familiar tone of the call connecting went off, and then Clarke found herself looking at the woman from the picture. Today her hair was straightened and parted slightly to one side. She wore a black blazer over a black collared shirt - how did she find the exact same shade of black for both, Clarke wondered - and next to her on a dark wooden table sat a glass of deep red wine. 

“Hello, Clarke,” the woman said. Her voice had a rich timbre and medium pitch, and it perfectly suited her looks. “You’re as lovely as your pictures.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said, trying to keep her nerves out of her voice. “You are too, Alexandra.” 

“Please, call me Lexa.”

“Lexa,” Clarke repeated. 

“All your arrangement terms suit me. A non-sexual relationship with a physical component, companionship, accompaniment to events and anything else I might want. Can you carry on a conversation, Clarke?”

 

“I can,” Clarke said, quietly wondering if it had been such a good idea to mark down that she wasn’t interested in a sexual relationship. “I can both read and speak in full sentences.”

Lexa laughed. “Good. I want someone to chat to on long plane rides.”

“I like chatting.”

“Perfect. And do you like food?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I’ll book us a spot on the Golden Circle tour in Reykjavik. We’ll be staying at the Silica Hotel. How long can you stay? You’re a student, yes?”

“I am.” Clarke tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m in the last semester of my senior year, so I managed to get all my classes in on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m free Friday through Monday.”

“Well, if you need to study, feel free to bring books. You’ll absorb the information much better while sitting in a hot spring, I’m sure. If you get any of them wet I’ll replace them. Can you fly out Thursday evening?” Lexa took a sip of her wine and looked at the camera expectantly.

“That sounds good.”

“Great. I’ll text you your flight information. I’ll meet you at the Seattle airport, then we’ll fly from Seattle to New York, New York to Reykjavik.” She said it so matter-of-factly that Clarke wondered how often she did things like this.

“What should I pack?”

Lexa smiled. “Just what you want to have with you on the plane. I’ll buy you everything else you’ll need once we get there.”

“Oh,” Clarke said. “I - thank you.”

“Of course. Now, I’m going to bed. I’ll speak with you in the morning, Clarke, and we can go over the flights we’ll be taking. And I’ll see you in two days.”

“Two days,” Clarke repeated. “Good night, Lexa.”

Lexa tilted her head, and smiled a warm, soft smile. “Good night, Clarke.”

After she hung up, Clarke sat in silence for a moment. “I should text Octavia,” she said to herself, “and tell her what she’s gotten me into.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter of exposition! Thanks to everyone who commented on the first chapter, you're all super nice and I wasn't expecting any comments at all. This is my first fic on here so I'm still a little nervous! 
> 
> If you have fine stud Lexa headcanons you really love, tell me about them and I might incorporate them!


End file.
